Shattered Solace
by cloverlover
Summary: It was like a whirlpool of memories simultaneously flooding her thoughts – the sadness, the anger, the ultimate fury. All these thoughts collided in her mind like ice would with fire, and inside she was screaming Ron, Ron, Ron, but she was losing control – then she leaned over and kissed Harry Potter, and these thoughts exploded in her mind like dying stars...


Shattered Solace

"Ron..."

Tears were streaming carelessly down Hermione's cheeks, as she stared helplessly at the place where Ron had Disapparated. Never had she imagined that the Horcrux hunt would come to this. She reached to her chest and clutched the Slytherin locket tightly. Her hand was cold from the freezing winter night, but inexplicably, the locket still felt like ice to her fingertips. She could feel the tinny beat of the small object vibrating in her hand. She looked down at the locket with narrowed eyes. The thing was no less than pure evil, yet it was around her neck, and would be for at least several hours until it was Harry's turn to wear the cursed thing.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice called from inside the tent, softly. "He's not coming back any time soon. Let it go." She could hear the obvious strain in his voice as he said this, but both of them knew it to be true. Looking back at the spot where Ron had gone, Hermione shook her head sadly and walked back to the tent, stepped through the curtains and stopped to wipe another tear cascading down her face.

She looked up. Harry's head was in his hands, and Hermione could hear his heavy breathing reverberating around the small tent, like he trying to calm himself down. He was seated on the edge of his bed, his eyes cast downwards at the floor. Hermione thought she had never seen him look so defeated.

She shivered slightly. Winter was approaching, and no amount of Warming Charms would dispel the chill seeping through her clothes. Her jacket rustled as she shook from the cold, causing Harry to look up at watch her standing there before him. Hermione couldn't help observing how Harry's green eyes sparkled when they were full of emotion. She had never noticed that before.

"Harry," she said quietly, as fresh tears spilled from her own wet brown eyes, "what do we do now?" She only began to sob again when Harry did nothing but shake his head. Unable to take it any longer, she ran towards him and enveloped him in a tight, comforting embrace. He tottered slightly as the mattress squeaked, but managed to regain his balance. His hands instinctively wrapped around the small of her back as Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, and both of them inwardly sighed from the contact. They stayed like this for a while, each of them lost in thought as they stared off into space. All was silent except for the chirping crickets from outside, and the faint beat from the locket, which was caught in between them.

And speaking of the locket…was it just her, or was it beating faster? Hermione tensed and willed herself to feel the rhythm of the Horcrux, which was caught between the two friends. It had accelerated slightly, she noticed, but only just. That was when she realized the beating wasn't coming from the locket, but from her own heart.

_What am I doing? _she thought silently. Her eyes widened as her arms wrapped even tighter around Harry's neck, but all of a sudden she felt too close for comfort. There was something new inside her. The pounding of her heart wasn't anything she had felt before. Suddenly, she knew what it was – burning _desire._

_No, _she told herself, _the locket's playing tricks on me. _Yet somehow, the other side of her, the side which was hidden at the back of her mind but spoke subconsciously at her weakest moments, was dominating the rest of her. Ron wasn't here anymore, and he sure wasn't going to return to them for a long while, she reasoned. She and Harry were alone, out of sight, out of earshot, and out of touch with everyone they knew. They were both upset with Ron – she because she had lost the one person who mattered to her the most, and Harry because Ron had been like a brother to him. Suppose Ron didn't come back, and it was just the two of them left? Who was to blame them if they were to find solace in each other? And most importantly, what was there to lose?

During this time she hadn't noticed that Harry had also felt the increased frequency of her heartbeats. He removed his hands from her waist and shrank away slightly so they were looking at each other again. Startling emerald met chocolate brown, and they stared at each other for what seemed like eons. Hermione's eyes were wide, and Harry also looked slightly anxious from the way his mouth fell open slightly.

"Was that you?" he whispered softly. Hermione nodded, wary of the intensity of his gaze. The locket really was affecting her. Her emotions were in turmoil. It was like a whirlpool of memories simultaneously flooding her thoughts – the sadness she had felt when Ron didn't ask her to the Yule Ball in her fourth year, the anger when she saw that sorry excuse of a girlfriend called Lavender snogging the living daylights out of him, the ultimate fury she had experienced when she pointed her wand at him and sent those canaries pelting towards him at full speed, him cowering as they pecked mercilessly at his sin. All these thoughts collided in her mind like ice would with fire, and inside she was screaming _Ron, Ron, Ron, _but she was losing control –

She leaned over and kissed him, and these thoughts exploded in her mind like dying stars.

It was merely lips touching at first, but to Hermione it wasn't enough. She wanted – no, _needed – _to get over Ron as soon as possible. It wasn't that she thought moving on to Harry would help matters, but what with her feelings screwing with her thoughts, and the unhelpful fact that the locket was slowly taking control of her mind, she wasn't thinking straight at the moment. Without waiting for a response, she deepened the kiss, forcing Harry to lie down with his back on the bedsheets while she shamelessly straddled him and snogged like there was no tomorrow. Harry was evidently shocked – his hands were hesitant, and he didn't know where to put them. She proceeded to bite lightly on his bottom lip, causing him to moan in response, and before long, he was responding to her actions, kissing her back. The two dominant Gryffindors fought for control like they were playing a game of tug-of-war, and soon Harry had gained the upper hand, taking her by the wrists and flipping her over so she was underneath him. Hermione squeaked in surprise as he did so, but their lips never broke contact.

They came up for air and gasped for breath, their eyes never leaving each other. Harry's hair was even messier than usual because Hermione had fisted her hands in it, and Hermione's hair was sprawled haphazardly on the pillow in cascading waves. They panted as they looked at each other, but before long they were kissing again with more fervour than before.

Hermione felt a hand inching up her sweater and made no move to stop it. Her own hands were roaming around Harry's back, skimming over his toned muscles, eventually coaxing his shirt off his body. Harry's hands unclasped her bra with surprising ease, due to his nimble Seeker fingers, and after a little scuffle it was off along with her sweater. His lips crashed onto hers once more, and Hermione let out a gasp as Harry's calloused hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs delicately circling her nipples. For a while they were content making out in this position with half their clothes off, but their subconscious minds were begging for more, more, _more._

She fumbled with his trousers and slipped them off, and Harry helped her by kicking them off the bed. Her pants joined the discarded pile on the floor, leaving them both in just their underwear. Harry's arousal was so close to her entrance, it was almost like it was already inside her, and Hermione ground against him, eliciting soft groans from him as his back arched to meet hers. They continued to kiss, Harry's hands growing more confident, until they suddenly left her for a moment. Hermione almost cried out in protest, but he slipped his hands into her favourite knickers and ripped them off as if they were made out of thin paper. She whimpered slightly at her loss, but it wasn't like a simple _Reparo _couldn't fix it, so she left it alone.

Hermione's logical conscience spoke out of the blue, echoing in her mind over the furious beating of her heart and the humming of the locket around her neck. _This is wrong, Hermione_. She and Harry had been nothing more than friends, and their relationship wasn't anything above platonic either. Yet here they were, naked. Hermione flushed and tried to close her eyes, forcing herself to try and pretend that it was Ron she was in bed with, not his best mate, but realized she couldn't. Harry's body was of a completely different build to Ron's – he was leaner and had smaller hands, for one thing. Even his scent was different. Ron smelled of spearmint toothpaste and fresh leaves, but Harry had a more earthy smell to him that was too difficult to ignore.

"Hermione," she heard him whisper in her ear. She hadn't realised that his boxers were already off, but she could tell they were; his cock was dangerously close to her entrance. "You sure about this?"

For a moment she wanted to say no. She had intended to save her first kiss, her first makeout session and first everything for Ron, but at this moment her hormones had taken over. Her own body was betraying herself; she could smell her own scent soaking the bed. She was so angry at Ron she just didn't care anymore. She didn't want to care either. She nodded.

Hermione could tell he was nervous about hurting her, and even he wasn't sure whether this was right or not. Hermione had known for a long time about his crush for Ginny, and both of them felt as if they were betraying not only the ones they loved, but themselves too. However, they were now feeling too shattered and heartbroken to think or care about right or wrong.

Slowly and gently, he eased himself in. She threw her head back and let out a low moan as she stretched. The feeling was so intense, both of them didn't want to stop for a moment. Her nails scratched at his back and left thin white lines on it as he began to move slowly. She could feel him throbbing inside, and he whispered sweet nothings in her ear as she muttered obscenities in his. Tears were welling up in her eyes at the wrongness of her situation, and soon she was crying like Cho Chang under the mistletoe. Harry didn't mind, however. He was also crying, albeit silently, and for a moment Hermione wondered how the Dursley's rigorous training had forced Harry to cry ever so quietly.

Meanwhile he had picked up the pace, and now he was moving increasingly faster. The heat was building up, and so were their cries and moans, and finally she reached her climax, burying her head in Harry's shoulder and screaming until she could bear no more. Moments later, Harry also came with a shout, and he gave an involuntary jerk as he thrust once more and spilled out inside her. And then in was all over, and both of them collapsed, panting, still entwined into each other.

Hermione was crying again. She let the tears spill freely down her cheeks, her head still on Harry's shoulder. "I miss him, Harry," she whispered.

"Me too, Hermione." She suddenly heard the guilt lacing his voice, and the full scope of what they had just done came rushing back at her. Shame overwhelmed her being, consuming her every thought as her long-lost conscience took control once more. But it was too late to turn back; what was done, was done.

She just wished he hadn't left.

**Author's Note:**

**I've always had an affinity for this ship! You really don't think Harry and Hermione spent several weeks together on completely platonic terms, did you? Hope you liked it!**


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